Just One Moment
by CUtopia
Summary: Arthur finds a curious Muggle object and ends up getting the opportunity to change the one moment in his life that hurt the most.


Entry for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 6, Finals Round 1 - Wigtown Wanderers vs Montrose Magpies

Position: Captain

Prompt: Multiverse (changes in the past cause an entirely new timeline to be created)

Word Count: 2,182

Beta: brokenbottleaurora

* * *

 **Just One Moment**

The first light of dawn was only just appearing, short, golden streaks licking at the grass that was still damp with morning dew when Arthur Weasley woke. Listening to the songs of the birds in the apple trees in the yard, the very singing that had raised him from his slumber, he gazed through the window into the sky that was starting to fill with colours at the approaching dawn.

Behind him, he could hear his wife Molly breathing evenly in her sleep, and carefully, lest he wake her, he turned around. She was snuggled deeply into the blankets, only her red, tousled hair sticking out of her little cocoon.

For a long moment, Arthur looked at the back of her head, took in the way the blankets rose and fell with her breaths, then he slowly rolled over again and got out of bed.

As he snuck around the room to get dressed, heavy guilt started to rise inside him, pushing his shoulders down, but he forced himself to ignore it. Usually, he would have stayed and waited until Molly woke up… but in the last weeks, barely anything had been as usual.

Everything had changed since that fateful night and the Battle of Hogwarts.

Everything had changed when their son had been ripped from their midst.

Arthur had always thought his wonderful family immune to terrible fate — maybe this was the punishment for believing that they were better off than others because they had so much love and life and compassion in their house.

The morning air filling his lungs as he stepped outside was fresh and flushed the last bits of sleep out of his body and mind as he walked over to his shed. He didn't want to admit it, but this had been become a ritual over the last two weeks or so — getting up before Molly was awake, throwing on some clothes and disappearing in the shed stuffed to the brim with the Muggle artifacts that had accumulated over the years.

He knew that it upset Molly, and it made him feel guilty, but at the moment he just needed these hours on his own.

Or maybe he was just unable to break out of a behaviour that seriously enabled a spiral of pondering about what he could have done differently on the day Fred had been taken from them. When he was in his shed long enough, searching through the piles of stuff or trying to create something out of several parts and magic, he always came to the conclusion that somewhere, at some point, he'd loaded responsibility for his son's death onto his shoulders.

That self-accusation mostly resulted in him staying in the shed until it was dark and Molly was going to bed, because he felt like he couldn't look her into the eyes, afraid that she could share his opinion. After waiting in the shed or kitchen for Molly to fall asleep, he would sneak upstairs and silently climb into bed with her, only to wake early the next morning and start the process all over again.

And so he once again avoided confronting the emotional baggage he was lugging around by opening the door to the shed and lighting the lamps with a flick of his wand, chasing the dim, greyish light of the morning out. On the workbench by the slightly grimy window, a new, very curious artifact was lying, already awaiting him. A few days ago, he'd been on a walk hoping to find some new interesting things when he came across a huge compound enclosed by high wired fences and a wall. Though he'd been curious about what the Muggles would be hiding inside there, he'd not dared to risk anything and continued alongside the fence, where he'd found the odd cube that was now sitting on his work bench. Peeking out from the high grass, it had caught his attention quickly with its perfect square form and smooth surfaces, and he'd been unable to walk past, as it looked unlike anything Muggle-made that he'd ever encountered.

Since he'd brought it home, he'd been trying to figure out what its purpose was, but so far without any luck. None of the books and manuals about Muggle tech he owned had been able to shine light on the nature of the object he had in front of him.

So this morning, he spent another long hour working his way through books and magazines before giving up and slumping into the old creaky wooden chair in the corner, occupying his mind with the question of what to do now.  
He'd never been unable to figure out what something did in the end — well, except for the rubber duck, but that had been his toughest case.

Twirling his wand between his fingers, Arthur felt some anxiety looming inside him; if he couldn't find some use for this thing, there was no excuse for him to stay hidden in here.

But then, an idea born out of desperation sparked inside his head, and he sat up straight.

Magic, that was it! He could simply enchant this object to reveal its purpose through a demonstration!

Before there was time for second thoughts, Arthur jumped to his feet, energy rushing through his body, and waved his wand, mumbling a spell under his breath as he pointed the tip at the object.

A second later, a blinding white light filled the shed, and Arthur closed his eyes in shock, his heart jumping into his throat as he felt a pull on his body, almost like he was being taken away by a portkey. However, his feet never left the ground; he could sense the whole room around him was the same, though there was a sensation he could only compare to standing on the deck of a boat as it swayed with the waves.

As sudden as this had started, it ended again, and Arthur slowly opened his eyes after a long moment of waiting, turning on the spot to inspect his surroundings.

The shed still looked the same to him, though he would swear that some piles of objects had gotten smaller in the few seconds his eyes had been closed. Also the light conditions had changed slightly, the sun entering at a different low level like it did in the late afternoon, but Arthur only assumed that he'd forgotten the time during his earlier research.

But then, his gaze fell onto the daily calendar hanging in the corner by the door.

1st of May.

It was as if someone had punched him in the face. Arthur swayed backwards, his hands gripping the edge of the workbench so tightly that his knuckles were white, and he suddenly had trouble breathing. This couldn't be. It was impossible…

He tried to convince himself that he'd forgotten to rip off the sheets of parchment indicating the date since that fateful day, but he could vividly remember crumbling this very piece in his fingers, tears dampening the little ball before he threw it into the fire of the little oven he kept in the shed for the winter months.

Maybe without the storm of emotions that started to rise inside of him, Arthur would have been delighted about what he'd found out — had the Muggles found a way to invent time travel themselves? How had they done this without magic? Or had they found a time turner, even though that didn't seem likely?

However, the realisation that he was back to the day before his son had died smothered all creative ideas about the artifact before they could even start to form.

Was he damned to relive this horrific moment, swept away by the tides of time? Watch himself kneel next to his son's lifeless body? He knew about the dangers of time travel, and that trying to change the past was dangerous; he didn't assume that he could do something anyway. All he had to do was make sure that he wasn't seen, or maybe he could use the object to get back…

Arthur turned his head with the idea of simply casting the spell again, and froze when he saw the workbench empty. No sign of the square box. A wave of panic threatened to crash over him, but a tiny detail broke the tide: Arthur could remember spending the hours before they'd unexpectedly summoned to Hogwarts by the remains of the Order in the shed.

What if… yes, what if this wasn't like wizard's time travel where the time traveler had to make sure he wouldn't be seen and merely took on a bystander's role? What if the Muggle device had sent him back in time and he was himself, replacing his past self?

"Arthur! Arthur!"

Molly's voice ripped him from his thoughts, and the familiar tone made him even more confident that his idea had to be right — this was exactly the way he remembered the hours before the Battle of Hogwarts.

He was reliving the past as an active participant.

A second later, Molly entered the shed, her eyes wide and filled with worry. "Kingsley… he sent a message… Harry, he's at Hogwarts, with Ronald and Hermione! The Order is assembling!"

Fear shot through Arthur the moment he realised that everything would happen again the way it had previously if he didn't find a way to change the events that would bring the deepest pain he'd ever felt in his life. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive losing Fred a second time.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to Molly and drew her into his arms. "Let's go then, love. Don't worry, everything will be alright."

OoO

Arthur did his best to reenact most of his behaviours when they made their way to Hogwarts and joined the Order as it took back Hogwarts from Snape, though he found himself keeping a closer eye on Fred over the hours that followed. The worry about how much his current actions could change the future wasn't as strong as it had been before arriving at Hogwarts, though, since the determination to save his son's life had taken over completely. Additionally, he was convinced that saving a life couldn't possibly have a negative impact on the timeline that this would create. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but he was unable to critically consider his own plan in this moment.

The hours passed, and the tension was building and building, making Arthur increasingly nervous as everyone waited for the first attack. Fred and George weren't immune to the atmosphere in the castle, of course, but there was still a good amount of cheerfulness in the way they acted, which only fueled Arthur's determination.

When the moment he'd been anticipating so much finally came, it wasn't as dramatic or difficult to change as Arthur had thought. From Percy he knew what was about to happen, and it wasn't hard to push Fred just a bit to the side so the explosion would spare his life. His laughter and the sound of the stonewall bursting mingled, and he coughed when the dust settled.

"You made a joke, Perce! I can't believe it!"

Though it had only taken a light shove, or maybe exactly because it had only needed this small action to change the course of time, to save a life, Arthur was shaking. Cold sweat was running down his back and a sob broke out of his chest as he saw his two sons laughing together, unaware of how much sorrow had just been prevented. While Percy and Fred hugged, Arthur leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, a few tears running down his cheeks.

It was the first time in weeks that he'd allowed himself to cry.

OoO

The first light of dawn was only just appearing, short, golden streaks licking at the grass that was still damp with morning dew when Arthur Weasley woke. Listening to the songs of the birds in the apple trees in the yard, the very singing that had raised him from his slumber, he gazed through the window into the sky that was starting to fill with colours at the approaching dawn.

Behind him, he could hear his wife Molly breathing evenly in her sleep, and carefully, lest he wake her, he turned around. She was snuggled deeply into the blankets, only her red, tousled hair sticking out of her little cocoon.

For a long moment, Arthur looked at the back of her head, took in the way the blankets rose and fell with her breaths, then he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. A content noise left her as she seemed to wake slightly for a second when he cuddled into her back, but then she fell asleep again. Arthur buried his face in her neck and closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips.

Everything was well.

Some memories would fade away with time like a bad dream did with the daylight.


End file.
